Building From Ashes (22 page)

“You look serious,” she said.

Carwyn closed the oak door and leaned against it. “I have to go.”

She only blinked. “Where?”

“South America.”

Brigid was frozen for only a moment before she spoke again. Her energy was heating up again, but not to an alarming level. “Is there anything wrong with Isabel and Gus?”

“No, it’s my friends. Do you remember my friend, Giovanni? The fire vampire? His mate, Beatrice… they’re on their way to South American now. She turned when she was in China and her sire—who was her human father, too—was killed shortly after.”

He could see her eyes furrow in sympathy. “I’m so sorry. That’s horrible.”

“Lorenzo did it.”

Her eyes flared and he saw smoke rising at her collar. He rushed over and put his hands on her shoulders, rubbing them and willing her to remain calm. “Calm, Brigid. Calm.”

She took a deep breath and the smell of smoke dissipated. “Did they kill him?”

“No. He escaped with the book Stephen—B’s father—had stolen from him. It was related to blood alchemy. Related to what Ioan was looking for, I think.”

He could see a trace of tears in the corner of her eye before she blinked them away. “Well, you need to go, then. Go and help them find Lorenzo and this book. It’s what Ioan would’ve wanted.”

Carwyn couldn’t seem to lift his hands from her shoulders. The edge of his thumb rested against the soft skin of her neck and he could hear the low thump of her heart as her blood churned. He felt as if he would be ripping himself in two to leave her.

“I said I would help you, Brigid.”

She whispered, “I know.”

He stepped even closer and leaned down. Her forehead was a whisper away from his lips. “I said… you could hold on to me.”

A crooked smile lifted the corner of her mouth and she looked up. “I’m a big girl, Carwyn.”

A reluctant smile came to his lips. “No, you’re not. You’re tiny.”

“Careful, I’ll shock ya.” She lifted her hands and placed them over his as they rested on her shoulders.

He gave a rueful laugh. “You always do.”

Carwyn couldn’t look away. Neither, it seemed, could Brigid. Her voice was a whisper when she finally spoke. “I know it’s not on the way, but can you look in on things in Dublin before you leave? Check on the investigation. I’ve talked to Murphy on the phone, but he’ll tell you things he won’t tell me, and—”

“Yes,” he said. “I’ll go by his office.”

“There’s still a local connection we haven’t found. I know—I know they don’t believe me. They think it ended when Lorenzo left Dublin, and I don’t want them to lose the trace of any leads while I’m out here. I just know—”

“Brigid.”

She took a deep breath and he could smell the smoky-sweet scent of her. “Yes?”

I’ll miss you. More than I should. Do you feel this? Is it the same for you? Or am I some great hulking brute of a male who could never—should never…

His thumbs stroked along the skin at her collar. “I’ll look into things in Dublin. Don’t worry.”

She took a breath and held it. “You should go. You can make Glasgow tonight if you leave now.”

“I know.” And yet, he couldn’t seem to step away. She was so small and so strong. It was like tightly coiled steel held up her limbs. Resisting the urge to wrap his arms around her, he leaned down, pressing a kiss to the burning skin on her forehead. He closed his eyes and held his lips there, feeling the burn and the sharp bite of her fingernails as they dug into his hands.

She whispered. “You should go.”

Finally, he drew away and lifted his hands from her. He took one step back. Then another. Then he turned and strode toward the door.

“Carwyn?”

He whirled around. “Yes?”

Brigid gave him a cautious smile. “Take care of yourself.”

He forced a smile, and his heart gave a quiet thump. “I will.”

Chapter Fourteen

Castle Mackenzie

January 2011

Nights in the Scottish highlands were cool and damp. They were also long. Brigid grinned as she turned and twisted her hands, letting the ball of fire roll down one arm and hover over the palm of her hand before she tossed it into the other and let her amnis move it up the other arm. Her energy pulsed and flowed along her skin, shielding and feeding her all at the same time.

Forget drugs, manipulating fire was the most intoxicating high she’d ever experienced.

“Good,” Cathy said. “Now throw it. Far. Push it away from you and over the lake. You’re going to have to channel a lot of energy from other parts of your body to get it that far, but I think you can do it.”

“Okay.” She closed her eyes and felt the tickling amnis flowing up from her legs. She was rooted to the earth and her energy flowed up. Up. Building and rising until she could feel it nudging her arms out from her body. Her fangs grew long as her blood pulsed. Then with one last push of her mind, she imagined the fireball flying out of her hands and over the lake.

And the minute she thought it, it happened. She held the ball, hovering over the water where its red glow illuminated the meadow surrounding them.

“Good! That’s excellent, Brigid. You’re a very fast learner.”

Anne looked up from where she was sitting at the lake’s edge. “It’s so pretty. Your fire has the prettiest colors, Brigid. There’s almost a greenish hue mixed in with all the red and gold. It’s like an opal.”

The water was freezing, but Anne didn’t mind. The water vampire leaned back and pulled her skirt up farther, dipping her legs into the water and lying back in the tall grass as she looked up into the sky.

“Anne,” Brigid called, “you look like a selkie. Are you sure you’re not some magical creature?”

Just then, Anne lifted a delicate hand, and a spear of water shot up from the lake and swirled around the fire that Brigid had thrown. It split into sparkling tendrils and surrounded the glowing ball until Brigid narrowed her eyes and made the fire explode out. It shattered into sparks that she let drift and simmer into the cold, dark water as Anne and Cathy laughed.

“Show off!” Anne yelled, but she could tell her friend was pleased with her. Everyone was pleased. They were impressed. For the first time in her life, Brigid felt confident and strong. Carwyn had been right. There were more than a few benefits to this whole immortal package.

As soon as she thought it, a wave of exhaustion took over and she swayed a little.

Cathy chuckled. “Whoa there, I think we better get you back to your room.”

“No,” she murmured, even though she could feel the heaviness begin to descend. “It’s still dark.”

“It is, but you know how long the nights are in winter. Your body doesn’t care. You’re young; it still wants you to get in those twelve hours.”

“Come on.” Anne rose from the lake’s edge and grabbed one of Brigid’s arms. Cathy grabbed her other one and they helped her up to her room. Brigid was careful to make sure her door was securely bolted before she went to lie down in the feather bed that smelled like lavender and lemon.

Sleep.

As her eyes flickered closed, she smiled. The best thing about being a vampire? It wasn’t not needing to breathe or night vision. It was sleep. Vampire sleep, quite simply, kicked ass. No dreams. No nightmares. Nothing interrupted the sweet oblivion of rest. So far, it was her favorite thing about immortality. With a soft sigh, she let the blissful exhaustion take her.

Her eyes flickered open hours later. She glanced at the clock on the wall, then at her body, which still lay in the same position as the night before. For a few minutes, she enjoyed the utter silence of the castle and thought about the previous months. Peaceful. It was the most peace she’d ever felt, despite the loud arguments that filled the hall. Castle Mackenzie was a happy and cheerful place, full of laughter and love. Max was the prankster. Tavish the straight man. And Cathy was the live wire that everyone reacted to.

Her rooms were in their own wing. Part of that was probably because everyone liked their privacy, though she’d certainly had to become accustomed to hearing Cathy and Max going at it on a regular basis. No vampire hearing was going to miss that; Cathy was loud. But Brigid’s rooms, for the most part, were isolated. Tavish had some small burrow in the basement where he huddled, and Anne had taken one of the lavish guest rooms, leaving Brigid in the south tower by herself.

She knew that, partly, it was a safety measure. On the off chance that she exploded, she didn’t want to take anyone with her. Though, from what Deirdre had said, she’d exploded when she first woke up and hadn’t left a mark on herself. They were still trying to figure that one out.

She ran a hand over the short crop of hair that covered her skull. Cathy told her she looked like a pixie. Anne said she looked like Audrey Hepburn. Brigid thought she was a little closer to a Sinead O’Connor look-alike with funky eyes. She got out of bed and dressed in the leggings and T-shirt she wore for practice. She’d learned her lesson about wearing loose clothing the first night and had the smudged burns to prove it.

Just then, she heard a scratching at the door. Sighing, she rose to open it and Madoc pushed in.

“Why? We go through this every night, dog.”

The large puppy ignored her; then he walked over to the heather-green sweater that was draped over the chair in the corner and pulled it. It fell on the floor where Madoc promptly turned in a circle and laid on top of it. Brigid rushed over and pulled at the sweater as the dog whined.

“Don’t! You beast, you’ll get fur all over it. That’s not yours.”

It wasn’t hers, either. Carwyn had left it in the library, and she’d found it after he’d left. She was just keeping it for him. She pulled up and the dog released the sweater with a whine.

“No. You can’t have it. I’ve told you before.” She held it in both hands and sat on the edge of the bed, fingering a frayed edge along the collar. She wondered if Anne could teach her how to fix it. It wasn’t as if she didn’t have time to learn a new hobby. Plus, knitting needles were sharp and could double as a handy weapon, should the need arise. The wolfhound came over and put his chin in her lap, looking up with mournful black eyes. Reluctantly, she lifted a hand and put it on his head, rubbing the coarse grey fur between her fingers. “I know,” she whispered. “I miss him, too.”

“Brigid!” She heard Cathy’s call from across the castle.

She set Carwyn’s sweater on her bed and gave Madoc one last pat before she stood.

“Time to eat, drink, and…” She looked down at the dog, who really was becoming alarmingly big. “Drink some more.”

The wolfhound huffed and walked to the door.

“Well, I don’t see you offering, dog.”

Madoc barked and sat back on his haunches as she locked her door and pocketed the old key. Then the small woman and the giant dog set off down the hall.

“I was just joking, you know. The way you smell, I can’t imagine your blood tastes very good.”

“Again!”

She built the fire up along her arms, then snuffed it out, and the flames appeared to sink into her skin. Every time she did it, there was a sharp tingling sensation that reminded her of needles. She looked up into the full moon and took a deep breath, calming the race of her heart.

“Again.”

“Shit,” she muttered. It wasn’t painful in the way that she remembered pain as a human, but it was still uncomfortable, and she’d been repeating the exercise for over an hour while Anne and Cathy chatted near the lake’s edge. She built the fire again. Then snuffed it out. Again. Cathy claimed that learning to put out the flames was just as important, if not more, than learning how to control them.

“Once more.”

Brigid locked her jaw and felt her fangs slide down, but she did it again.

“Okay, one more time.”

“Are you fecking kidding me?” she finally exploded. “I’ve been doing this for over an hour!”

Cathy rose and rushed to her. “Are you questioning me?” The spicy smoke of the other fire vampire tingled in her nose, but she did not back down.

“Yes, I’m questioning you. I’m questioning the idiocy of going over and over the same drill for an hour when I’ve obviously mastered it.”

Anne said quietly, “Calm down, both of you.”

Cathy leaned down, growling in Brigid’s face. “You’ve mastered it when I say you’ve mastered it, little girl. Do it again.”

“No.”

Cathy’s hand shot out and gripped her neck, lifting her feet off the ground as Brigid tugged at her hands.

“I can’t—”

“Do it.” Cathy growled with bared fangs. “Again.”

Brigid tried to ignore the instinctual panic, knowing she didn’t need to breathe, but for a brief second, she was a small girl again, hiding in a closet with stifling hot air. She tried to build up the fire along her arms, but it swirled and sparked completely out of control. Cathy dropped her and she tumbled to the ground.

“You’re weak and immature. Do it again.”

Brigid felt the flames erupt from her hands just as Anne sent a cool mist over her. It sizzled against smooth skin. She’d burned off all the soft hair on her arms. Again. She lifted a hand to check her head and Cathy saw her.

“Don’t worry about your fucking hair!”

She shot to her feet. “Don’t tell me what to do!”

Cathy roared in her face. “You’re an idiot, Brigid. Don’t you realize? It’s not going to be when you’re in some controlled place that you have to worry. It’s going to be when you’re angry or afraid. That’s when all of this is going to have to be like second nature.
That’s
when you’re going to have to control yourself.”

Her heart was pounding. Her breath came hot and fast. “I always control myself.”

“You didn’t just now, did you?”

Brigid’s fangs were long in her mouth. She felt the blood drip over her lower lip where they pierced the skin. “You were deliberately provoking me.”

“I know!”

She and Cathy began to circle each other like two animals spoiling for a fight. The amnis washed over her. Hot. Angry. She could feel the air shimmer around her.